Earth boys are grumpy
by flawlessphoenix
Summary: Stiles learns the existence of his father when he goes through his missing mother's diary and travels to another realm to meet the father he believed to be dead, discovering many things along his journey about his dad, his powers, and the human world. Chapter 2: Stiles transfers to a new school and meets someone who will make a profound impact on his life. magic!Stiles, slow build
1. It's a different world

**A/N: I didn't realize it until I was ready to post but this is a pretty good fit for Father's Day. Happy Father's Day!**

 **I'm still not 100% sure if this will be a long fic or broken up into a series because each new chapter will be episodic self contained plots but still part of a larger continuous arc (does that make sense?). For now it will be a multi-chaptered fic.**

 **Anyway, this was influenced by a binge-a-thon of Sabrina the Teenage Witch (because I'm trash), so you will see parallels like my cheesy rhyming (so sorry). This was supposed to be a lot more light hearted but ended up kinda angsty. I hope it's still fun to read!**

 **And feel free to throw concrete - I mean - con-crit at me (or both)**

"Mom, what was dad like?"

"Hm. He was handsome like you. Smart like you. And stubborn just like you." His mother said with a teasing smile.

The young boy huffed indignantly and crossed his arms. "I am so not stubborn!"

"Oh really? And who spent the past two weeks sneaking my spellbook out when I left for work?"

The young boy winced. "You knew about that?"

"I did. And no more spells until you're older."

The young boy nodded. "I wish I could have met him."

"So I do too." She kissed her son on the forehead and crossed the room to the door. "Goodnight, Stiles."

"Night, Mom." Then Stiles whispered goodnight to the photo of his dad on his nightstand.

As he drifted off to sleep, his father was the last thought on his mind - wishing he could've met him before he passed away.

*****(Years later)*****

It happened with Stiles being Stiles and his best friend, Scott McCall, being dragged along for the ride. A typically average situation with a completely unexpected turn of events.

Stiles' mother's spell book was strictly off limits unless he was under the watchful eye of his witchcraft trainer. And since Stiles went through them like tissue, the teenage witch never had much time to spend with the book of spells. It was a Friday night and as usual the dorky duo didn't have any plans or dates to occupy their time. So Stiles took it upon himself to use the locator spell he had memorized because of his best friend's frequent inability to keep track of his asthma inhaler. It was an unusual disorder for a werewolf like Scott to have with his advance healing abilities.

The spell book was hidden safely in the fireplace of the McCall house. Scott's super sniffer wouldn't have been able to track it because of the burnt smell of wood. No doubt the clever idea of Scott's mom and Stiles' guardian, Melissa McCall.

Scott's mom and father, Rafael McCall, were going to be gone until early dawn so it was the perfect opportunity to unleash some grade A level spells.

When Melissa dragged her worn out feet through the front door after a draining night in the ER, at most she expected the boys to have had pigged out on pizza and dug into their not so secret stash of candy. She didn't expect to see her ficus in the walkway to sing as she walked passed, a small cloud of snow sprinkling over the kitchen sink, or the lights to change colors with every step she ventured into the mad house.

"Boys! I told you before my house is not supernaturally proofed! Keep the spells outdoors!" Melissa yelled out.

Through the the kitchen screen door, she spotted the back of her son's floppy head of hair sitting in the yard along with Stiles' red hooded cloak covering the young witch's head, a fixture whenever Stiles performed spells. The witch tended to have a flair for the dramatic.

She was ready to have them reverse the spells and clean up the mess from the now dancing plant shaking dirt from its pot before her husband came home. Stiles' antics were a constant hot button topic for the recently repaired married couple. Rafael felt Stiles was a mischievous influence on his son. But Melissa never had a problem with their stunts… as long as they kept it out of the house. She grabbed the mop and broom out of the kitchen closet before walking out in the backyard to reprimand her boys.

The biggest surprise of the night was found in that backyard. Her son rubbing soothing circles into Stiles' back as the young witch kept his tear filled eyes on the pages in his mother's book. If Melissa wasn't so tired and the house wasn't so consumed with the scent of magic, she would have been able to smell the overwhelming emotions radiating from her adopted son.

Stiles had summoned the whereabouts to his mother's book when he casted the locator spell but he never specified which one of her books. The book he was led to turned out to be her diary.

And by reading it Stiles had found out his father was a human from the mortal realm and very much alive unlike he was led to believe his whole life.

Stiles' discovery happened to coincide with the Winter solstice. One of four rare times of the year when the veil between the Other Realm and the mortal realm. And the young witch planned on taking full advantage of that.

"Stiles, are you absolutely sure about this?" Melissa asked for the umpteenth time as they stood at the front door almost ready to leave to the house. "He wasn't… receptive when your mom told him about being a witch. And I promised to keep her secret because I saw how devastated she was after he rejected her. Finding out he has a son with the same abilities…" She wasn't trying to be so negative and disappoint Stiles but she remembered all too well how distraught her best friend felt when she returned to the Other Realm heartbroken from rejection after revealing her supernatural secret to Stiles' father.

"Mel." Rafael chided.

Scott ran down the steps waving an object in hand. "Found it! Wouldn't want you to leave without it."

Stiles smiled gratefully at his adopted brother for finding his photo album. "I'm just going to meet him, Aunt Mel. It's no big deal." Stiles rolled his eyes, careful to hide the action under the guise of finishing his packing. He was still a little mad at her for hiding the monumental secret of his father being alive in the mortal realm but he would show her respect. "Besides, if Mom didn't still love him I don't think she would've kept his picture after all those years or told me stories about him during my bedtime as a kid."

The witch loved Scott like a brother, Melissa like second mother, and Rafael… like a… well, that was a work in progress. Stiles hadn't quite taken to forgiving him as the same as Melissa and Scott had. But he was getting there. Mostly. Anyway… As much as Stiles thought of the McCalls as his family, there were small, very brief moments when he felt like an outsider with them. The way Melissa would share advice to Scott on controlling his powers would remind Stiles of the spells he used to assist his mother in conjuring. And how Rafael would tease Scott about being future heartbreaker once he got out of his awkward phase was the relationship Stiles imagined he'd have with his father.

This could be a way of being closer to his mother. She loved Stiles' father, and had spoken fondly of him anytime Stiles had questions about him when he was younger. Even though she lied about his existence, there must be some truth about how good of a man his father is. Wasn't there?

After Scott gave the witch a crushing hug ("Werewolf strength, Scotty!") there was just one stop Stiles had to make before his life altering trip.

Stiles visited the preservation mausoleum where his mother and countless other victims resided. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I wish everyday…" The witch choked back a sob threatening to surface. "I know we'll be together again and when we do I'll have our whole family back together. I love you." He knew he must look foolish hugging a wax sculpture but his mother lied dormant in there and though she couldn't feel it or was even aware of her son's presence, the action gave Stiles the very slightest bit of comfort.

It was Melissa's first time coming back to the mortal realm since her last trip sixteen years ago. And that time she and her best friend each came back home with a souvenir - two sons growing inside them. And now, she could very well be losing a son when she goes back home.

"It feels different here." Stiles noticed as soon as they drove away in a rental car from the portal area that brought them to the mortal world. Only he and Melissa made the journey there.

"That's a world without magic." Melissa replied.

"But I can still use magic, right?"

"You can, Stiles. But remember the rules. Please." Melissa practically begged. She knew how stubborn Stiles could be about following rules. It was how the two of them even found themselves there.

" _Rules?_ There was only one. ' _No magic.'_ " Stiles frowned. He found it to be a stupid rule, but he kept the thought to himself. If he had to give up magic for a few days to meet his dad he'd comply - maybe not happily but he would willingly.

But as Stiles gazed in awe driving pass the festive decorations of bright lights, shiny ornaments around trees, and whimsical red and green costumes exhibited around the town - he began to wonder if maybe these humans had their own kind of special magic.

Sheriff Stilinski chewed a bite from his freshly delivered bacon cheeseburger, his second of the day and it was only noon. But the comfort food was much needed to cope with the stress of the reduced number of deputies around the office this week - it being the holidays and people wanting time off to be with loved ones. And Sheriff Stilinski sadly did not have that problem. But pulling overtime didn't cause the Sheriff too much hardship in a small town like Beacon Hills. More often, all he really had to deal with were decorations being vandalized and people trying to shoplift overcrowded stores. But it could be draining having to console and extract info from furious victims. At times it felt like Noah Stilinski was less of a sheriff and more of a customer service rep. And if he was being honest, this time of year hadn't put him in a cheerful mood for a long time.

The weary Sheriff was ready to sit in his office and continue eating the rest of his bacon cheeseburger before his phone inevitably rung when he noticed an open mouthed teenage boy staring at him in amazement.

"You okay there, son?"

The teen boy let out a short, breathy laugh. " _Son._ You - you know who I am?" Wide, hopeful eyes pinned the Sheriff.

"Uhm, should I?" The Sheriff asked before he switched his gaze from the confused teen to the older woman standing protectively to the side.

The Sheriff squinted his eyes, studying the boy before him with scrutiny. The teen looked as if he wanted to smack his forehead for saying the wrong thing which Noah thought was being too hard on himself. Beyond that observation there was a wave of familiarity the older man felt looking at him. He had seen those soft brown eyes before. Many times before. Whenever a similar set of warm brown eyes were remembered from the Sheriff's past every so often, guilt and regret soon followed the memories.

"Who did you say your mother was?" The older man asked, even though the boy had never mentioned. The protective woman beside the teenager had no resemblance to him, so the Sheriff figured they weren't related but still close with the way she cradled herself to his side. And although the Sheriff had no proof, he knew the answer deep in his heart.

"Claudia." The boy answered, confirming the Sheriff's suspensions.

It was a name Noah hadn't allowed himself to say aloud ever since he last saw her. _Sixteen years ago._ He wasn't even going to bother asking how old the boy was.

And to think, Sheriff Stilinski thought the most challenging thing he would face that day were shoplifters and vandalizers.

Even though Noah felt in his heart the teenage boy that showed up in his office was his son, he had to be 100% sure. And being a sheriff, he was one flight of stairs away from a speedy DNA test to confirm their relation.

The teenage boy, Stiles - apparently a nickname, stated he had just learned of Noah's existence recently and wanted a chance to spend a little time together during this special period. Noah assumed Stiles meant Christmas. And Noah agreed without hesitation.

"This house was passed down to me by parents." Noah said as he opened the front door to his home and allowed Stiles to enter with his guardian, Melissa, following close behind. He noticed her scrunching her nose in displeasure as she walked further in the home. Sure it wasn't the most immaculate space but it was good enough for company, the sheriff had thought.

"Your parents? Does that mean have some grandparents?" Stiles inquired enthusiastically.

"Um… no. Sorry." Noah answered. Again he caught a look from Melissa except she was glaring at him. He hoped she couldn't tell he was lying.

"What about cousins, aunts, or uncles?" Stiles prodded, unaware of his guardian's look of suspicion.

He shook his head, answering truthfully this time.

"It's only you, no other family?"

"Just me… but I did host a little Christmas party at the office. _Holiday_ party - I'm supposed to call it." He offered, hoping to wipe away his son's pitying look. It doesn't really work.

"What's Christmas?"

Noah spurted out a chuckle. His amused look vanished once he realized Stiles wasn't making a joke. "Wait. You don't know what Christmas is?"

Stiles shrugged. Noah furrowed his brows. Even if the kid is from another country, he had to know what Christmas is. He was speaking perfect English. How is it possible he's never heard of Christmas before?

"Stiles, Christmas is a special holiday in the mortal realm around the time of winter solstice where people typically spend time with loved ones exchanging gifts." Melissa explained to Stiles.

"Is that what all the decorations we passed by were for?"

Melissa uh-ummed a response.

"Excuse me, ignoring the fact you don't what one of the biggest holidays on the face of this Earth is - if you aren't here for Christmas then why do you consider this a 'special period'?" Noah questioned.

Stiles scratched the back of his neck, looking nervous to answer. "Well, this happens to be one of the few times of the year where we can travel past the barrier between the mortal realm and the other realm… where I'm from."

Noah closed his eyes, a wave of deja vu hitting him hard. "Oh, hell…"

"I know you didn't believe Mom but she really was… is a witch. And so am I." Stiles rushed out, fear apparent in his voice. Stiles looked to Melissa. "I know I'm not supposed to but can I please show him?"

"Only this one time." Melissa granted.

"Show me what?" Noah regretted the words immediately.

Stiles had tried showcasing his magic to his father but like his mother had told him when he was a young boy- the man was stubborn.

When the half-dead plant sitting on the window sill belted out an odd song about chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Stiles' father had dismissed it. "I've seen singing fish before. That plant doesn't prove anything."

When a small flurry of snow appeared in the kitchen, the Sheriff excused it as weather typical for this time of year. "Plus I've been meaning to fix the roof."

Stiles last feat of magic - the lights flashing different colors with every footstep - didn't manage to sway the older man either. "Ever heard of the Clapper?"

Without his mother's spellbook with him, the frustrated witch couldn't think of anything else to do other than his weak spark which could easily be labeled as a trick of light.

With a heavy annoyed sigh, Melissa stepped forward and revealed her werewolf form to Noah. All fangs, claws, and red glowing eyes. And as an added bonus to end any possible doubt, she lifted his couch with one hand. "Steroids?" He tried but their combined demonstration had finally sunk in.

Stiles had left his father's home shortly after convincing the sheriff of his supernatural ability for some time to absorb recent developments, leaving the shell-shocked sheriff with their number and location of where they would be staying in town. The witch had been worried that it might be the last time he would see or hear from his father again until the next morning a knock on their hotel door brought him face to face with Noah Stilinski. He sheepishly asked Stiles if he would like to spend the day together. The witch grinned in delight and raced to grab his jacket to head out.

But before the Melissa allowed Stiles to leave alone with Noah, she gave the Sheriff a promise, not to be confused with a threat, that if any harm would come to Stiles in his care, emotional or physical, that she would show him the full power of what an alpha werewolf was capable of.

And Noah just had one rule for Stiles to agree before they went out. "No more magic." Stiles sighed but agreed, voicing with a pout why no one wanted him to use magic.

"Good luck." Melissa parted as the two men left.

"Thanks." Stiles said.

"I was talking to the Sheriff."

Noah was worried that taking his son out for a Christmas meal at a local, no-frills diner would be a great disappointment for not only their first Christmas together, but also Stiles' first Christmas ever. His worrying seemed to be for nothing since the teen shared Noah's love of the establishment.

"Mortals definitely have their own magic." The witch proclaimed and shoveled another hearty round of curly fries a moan loudly emanated from Stiles' stuffed cheeks. "Mortal Realm food is so awesome!"

"They don't have potatoes in your world, I take it." Noah figured.

"Nah. And it's a crying shame!" Stiles forcefully shook the ketchup bottle in his hand to emphasize his outrage. A glob of ketchup flew across the table on the Sheriff's cheek. The boy was completely unaware and continued. "We do have Dragon root though. But it's not from a dragon if that's what you think, it's just fertilized from a dragon's -"

"Please don't finish that sentence." The way Stiles gestured which part of the dragon was used left the Sheriff with a queasy gut.

Their server arrived with another helping of food that Noah happily let Stiles to himself. "Hash browns!" The teen cheered. "I seriously love mortal food!"

"You keep saying _mortal_... Does that mean you're immortal?" Noah asked. There was still a lot he didn't know about his son's supernatural nature.

"Nah, there are no immortal creatures. No matter what kitsunes may try to have you believe."

The Sheriff just blinked, not even bothering to ask exactly what a 'kitsune' is. He decided it would be best for the sake of his sanity to stick with relatively easy questions - Stiles' birthday, his hobbies, friends, and such - from that point forward. And leave some of the more reality warping ones - like Stiles mentioning dragons being a real thing so nonchalantly - to the side for another day… or another year.

Stiles was nearing the end of his meal when he spoke again. "So, where to next, Dad? Is 'Dad' okay? Or should I call you something else like: daddy, pa, papa, pops, old man, daddy-o?"

"Dad, will do just fine." Noah shook his head fondly.

Again, Noah was worried about letting down Stiles when the two went back to his home to watch classic Christmas movies on the couch. There was no large gathering of family around for holidays like normal families for Stiles to engage with. And the only festiveness in the house the sheriff could muster up came from a marathon of Christmas movies.

But Stiles still seemed to be having a good time. And the Other Realm resident was particularly enjoying a movie Noah had never heard of before. _A Diva's Christmas Carol_. And thanks to that movie the older man learned that his son is a pretty terrible singer. Just like his mother.

 _Claudia._

When Noah had asked about her, Stiles explained that she was in a coma-like state but wouldn't go any further in detail like how it happened or if there was a chance she would 'wake up'. He could tell whatever happened was a struggle for Stiles to talk about so he didn't press more on the subject. At least Stiles had Melissa to watch over him in Claudia's absence. The sheriff had seen she was fiercely protective over the boy as if he were her own. And if Noah remembered correctly, he had met her a few times back when he and Claudia were dating but he didn't remember much about her other than Claudia saying Melissa was her best friend from back home.

Stiles hadn't lied about how he loved getting to know his dad. But the witch's heart ached having this inside look at his father's life.

It was a special holiday season according to Melissa. A time of family and celebration, happiness and togetherness. But being in the Sheriff's home one would think it was just an average week. Stiles had noticed that, unlike the houses they passed by, his father's house barely had any decorations other than a dingy-looking wreath on the front door.

Another thing he noticed when he arrived at Noah's home was the big collection of empty bottles sitting in the hallway waiting to be recycled. The witch had seen his aunt's nose scrunch up so it had be alcohol - she never cared for the strong scent of booze. He hoped his dad didn't have a drinking problem.

And the last worrying observation was there were no photos of family or friends in his home or when Stiles visited his office. Stiles couldn't understand why the kind man didn't have anyone special in his life. The man had just discovered he had a son and Stiles had expected to be introduced to someone - anyone. But there wasn't. Then a dark, depressing thought had crossed Stiles' mind.

 _Who's there to take of him if anything bad were to happen? He is a sheriff after all._

Stiles chewed on a thumbnail worrying over his father, losing attention from the movie about a tall green striped man among much smaller green stripped people. But a request from his father for a beer jostled the witch out of his head.

When Stiles reached the fridge, he noticed the food inside with more scrutiny. Nothing in here was healthy. Living with a nurse who had a no nonsense approach to having a balanced diet opened Stiles' eyes to his dad's eating habits. And he remembered the bacon cheeseburger he saw his dad holding when he first met him. And the beer he retrieving wasn't the first of the night, or even the day for that matter. Stiles had thought the fast food and take out was just a special occasion for the guest but this seemed to be his father's daily routine of burgers, steak, and beer. Despite the older man's fit appearance, his eating habits were cause for alarm.

Stiles marched back into the living room, without the beer requested, where he his father sat content watching the movie. The witch muted the TV and spoke with passion. "I may be a witch, but we still share the same physiology. And I know your diet can't be healthy for you, especially at your age."

Noah sat up, surprised at the dramatic change in tone of the evening. "What? Wait… Just how old do think I am?"

The witch shot him a look saying 'you're completely missing the point'.

"Stiles, where is this coming from?"

The witch made his point by pointing to the coffee table in front of the couch and then to the table stand. Both of which had empty food wrappers from diners and empty beer bottles.

"Okay, that doesn't look great but I'm usually more conscious about what I eat. Honestly, this is only because I haven't been able to go grocery shopping in a while. I'm completely fine, kid - there's no reason to worry."

It would be really helpful right now to have a werewolf handy right now to make sure his father wasn't lying to him. But Stiles didn't need a werewolf. If the witch could make a plant sing, surely he can get his dad's heart to talk.

With some modifications to his spell, the witch started the incantation. "Um, to ease all of concerns about my dad's ticker, give us insight about his health to consider."

Stiles looked around for something to happen. He began worrying the spell hadn't work since he didn't have a specific object to enchant like with the lights or the plant and the witch never had much practice making his own incantations. But as the quiet stretched on, Stiles heard the faint ringing of the phone Melissa gave him, muffled under the couch cushions.

It turned out to be a call from the Heart Line. His dad's heart was calling the witch directly. "Well, I guess who would be more of an expert about your health than your own heart."

The witch put the call on speaker so his dad could hear firsthand about his high cholesterol and his not-so distant mortality if the man didn't start shaping up.

"Hey! You're my heart, you're supposed to be on my side!" Noah looked down at his chest.

"I am on your side. Your left side." His heart answered matter-of-factly through the phone.

"Real funny." Noah snatched the phone and ended the call but that didn't mean the conversation was over.

"See? Your own heart said your diet was no good!"

"Dammit Stiles, I made the rules perfectly clear - you do not get to use magic, especially on me!" Noah deflected.

"Yeah, well... what's the rule on blatantly lying to your son?!"

"Kid." The older man stood up, the creaking of the old sofa following his action. "This is all new for me. I'm used to it just being me and I do things however I want." He tried explaining to the scowling boy. "But I have you to think about now, so…" He walked past Stiles to the kitchen, the curious witch following behind. He opened the refrigerator and cabinet doors to throw out all the junk food and greasy takeout. The sheriff took a second look around the kitchen almost completely bare of any food to eat. "I think I need to go to the store."

Stiles smiled brightly. "Don't worry, pops, I'll show you how it's done. I know some great salad recipes. Plus, we can get some potatoes!"

Noah had to laugh. He had never seen anyone so passionate about potatoes before. And he had never felt so touched that this kid who he met a day ago cared so fiercely for him, as much as Noah cared for Stiles.

By the end of that day he spent with his dad, Stiles had come to a similar realization as well that brought him to a decision he didn't make lightly.

Stiles' decision had been a true shock to his aunt Melissa. But the young witch, after only a couple of days, was prepared to live with his father in the mortal realm.

"Are you still sure about this? What about your witchcraft training?" Aunt Melissa asked as an incentive for Stiles to reconsider his decision to live in the mortal realm.

'What about it' he countered with only the quirk of a brow.

His guardian understood. Stiles never had a magic teacher stick with him for longer than a couple of weeks. With each new instructor, Stiles had to prove what he had learned so far. Then by the time they saw how far he had developed and would allow him use of more advanced spells… that's when all hell would break loose. Actual fire and brimstone one time.

Stiles was just too curious for his own good. 'Mischievous' might be the more appropriate word for the witch.

"The next one might be the one." She said weakly grasping at straws to convince the witch to stay.

"So you're really leaving, Stiles? What will my constant splitting headache do without you?"

"Rafe!" Melissa scolded her husband's poor attempt to lighten the mood.

"I'm only teasing the boy, honey."

Melissa rolled her eyes, unwilling to find any amusement in the situation, and left the room to go upstairs to make sure Stiles hadn't forgotten anything important.

Once Rafael was alone with Stiles, he spoke as lowly as possible to keep the other werewolves in the house out of the loop. "Mel is gonna kill me. But there's something you need to be on guard from in the mortal realm... They're called hunters."

Stiles had heard of them at an early age in school. Remnant warriors of the past when the two worlds were one. They were the people that caused their two worlds to be separate. The Other Realm was created as a place of refuge from the humans that wanted all supernatural beings eliminated. Hunters still existed in the shadows, though in smaller numbers, to wipe out magical creatures that stayed behind in the mortal world.

"You'll need it." Rafael gave Stiles his mother's spell book.

But Melissa caught the exchange and snatched the book before Stiles could put his fingertips on the coveted book. "No! No, no way are you taking that with you!"

"He needs to protect himself!" Rafael argued.

"The best way to protect himself right now is to keep ' **this'** out of his hands. Stiles is untrained and using this level of magic will only bring attention to himself." Melissa countered. "I'll give you some items to protect yourself against supernatural - and mortal enemies. But this," she holds up Claudia's spellbook, "stays with me until you find a teacher. There's no magical metal detectors over there that will beep violently if you happen to cross a hunter. Staying inconspicuous is your best bet at staying undetected. And If it doesn't work out with your dad or you feel unsafe for any reason, go to the supernatural embassy and you'll be until the next portal opening."

There wouldn't be another one until Spring Equinox. Stiles knew this. He knew that he would be cut off from his adopted family for an entire three months but it didn't deter him from his decision. He needed to be with his dad. He lost one parent, he doesn't want to lose another.

When Stiles returned back to his dad's house - their house, he casts a spell to make an exact replica of his one from the Other Realm in the spare bedroom with his dad's hesitant permission. The witch doesn't account for the spell working quite so perfectly and it recreated his mess as well as the furniture. Stiles felt the room was a perfect clone of his room at the McCall's - all except for one item was missing.

Stiles took out the frame that he'd said goodnight to for over a decade and placed it on his nightstand. But instead of the picture frame holding a photo of his dad, there was a picture of his mom.

"Nice of you bring your mess with you, kid." His father stepped closer into the room, inspecting the newly placed picture. "I remember that day… It was the day before I last saw Claudia. Before I…"

Before he ruined things and she fled not only Beacon Hills but the entire world. And it was all his fault, he internally scolded himself.

"If I wasn't such an idiot… all that time I missed out on your life is my fault. I'm so sorry, Stiles."

Stiles wasn't going to lie and say it was okay, that it was no big deal. Because he knew firsthand how awful it felt to be the cause of hurting someone you loved most. The witch blamed himself everyday that his mother wasn't with him. And nothing anyone said to him made that guilt lessen. So instead, he said, "You're here now. And we have each other, let's just focus on that." He beamed.

His father chuckled lightly. "Right - you're right. Let's make the most of our time together. And as my first official act as your father, I am ordering you to clean up this room. No magic."

Stiles gaped in horror. "B-but it's my first day here and it's Christmas! I thought we could, like, hang out or something fun, y'know. You and me."

"And we will. After you clean your room." Noah left the room with a smirk while Stiles grumbled under his breath and then began collecting all his dirty scattered clothes and random to stuff into his closet.

There were other shortcuts the witch could use without the use of his magic.

After a hard shove to close the closet door full of junk, Stiles bounded down the stairs suggesting they go back to the diner for a salad for his dad and a basket full of curly fries for Stiles for a job well done. If his dad would start acting like a strict father then Stiles would be the crafty son.


	2. A Picture Lasts Forever

A lot had changed in Noah Stilinski's life in a short amount of time with the addition of his newly discovered son. The Sheriff felt he handled the change… mostly.

He and Stiles got along great, Noah couldn't believe how similar they were to each other after spending so many apart.

Stiles kept his word and restrained from using any magic, not too hard of a feat apparently because Stiles hadn't much experience using his powers.

Noah had handled his new diet at the insistence of his concerned son with minimal resistance. With a bit of forgery, Noah was able to get Stiles registered for school after the winter break as a transfer student from Poland - hopefully, the status as a foreign student would help Stiles if he said anything… odd.

But where Noah dropped the ball, so to speak, was with Stiles' TV viewing habits. The Sheriff had expected to have more time to spend with Stiles after Christmas when most of his deputies returned from vacation. The universe, however, had other plans. Many didn't return back to work or relocated, so he was stuck waiting for transfers and new recruits to fill his roster at the station. There were only so many times he could bring his son along without it interfering with his job. Stiles was a very curious kid - which Noah loved because it reminded him of himself. But after catching Stiles breaking into the evidence room, flipping through case files, listening to the police scanner, and - what became the last straw - handling weapons from the armory (thankfully only a stun gun) - the Sheriff decided in order to keep his sanity and his career that he would allow Stiles some leeway when it came to TV. It was something the witch was new to. However when Stiles couldn't stop singing commercial jingles about carpet steamers, structured settlements, mascara, and (God help him) diarrhea - Noah had never been so happy for school to start.

Stiles had transitioned well into his new school environment much like his father. The constant TV consumption made understanding his peers a breeze (See, Dad? I was doing research.). His high marks back home transferred into getting a few AP classes. He even snagged a spot on the swimming team. Not really a hard feat to achieve since it was the least popular sport at the school. Trying out for the swim team was a decision he and his dad made when discussing ways of utilizing Stiles' time away from a screen of any kind. Stiles almost had his phone revoked once the teen discovered the magic of streaming. (Stiles, I swear I'm changing the Netflix password if you don't get some sleep!) Swimming had been a special bond he shared with his mother but after her tragic accident, Stiles no longer wished to be near the water. That is until now. Being far from home in the mortal realm made Stiles want a connection to his mother since he couldn't visit her statued form.

But like his father Stiles had also dropped the ball, although in a bigger way.

The witch hadn't expected to be the most popular kid right off the bat but Stiles had made a big mistake in a short period of time at his new school. While practicing for his swim tryout, which turned out to be unnecessary (the only requirement was a signature from a guardian and of course the ability to swim), the witch during his swim sprint had accidentally knocked into another student. Hard; bloodied nose hard. And that student happened to be Jackson Whittemore, the captain of the lacrosse team, who apparently is a very big deal at Beacon Hills High School.

Stiles had apologized profusely. He probably set a world record for a number of times he said sorry in the span of 30 seconds but it didn't make a difference.

And as if being blacklisted by the most revered guy in school wasn't bad enough, Stiles' report in Economics about - well, let's just say magic related (more specifically about using crushed dragon scales to enhance male performance) - that made him look like a certified lunatic. At least his dad was able to cover for him with a lost in translation excuse and was allowed a do-over.

Okay, so maybe Stiles wasn't transitioning that well. In fact, the isolation from being the new school weirdo began getting to him so much that he actually looked forward to a call from Scott during the full moon today. He loved Scott dearly but his furry best friend would undoubtedly monopolize a big chunk of time babbling about his nightly pack run that happened during the first few days before a full moon. And with a pitiful whine, Stiles realized even the same pack run story he's heard a dozen time before from Scott still beats his current solitary status.

So Stiles sat alone feeling dejected during his lunch period, nibbling on his curly fries - the one thing to give him comfort in his depression, when he heard a startling sound. A camera's shutter noise took Stiles out of his mindless repetition of stuffing his face with food.

To his surprise, when Stiles looked for the source he discovered the camera was aimed directly at his stuffed face. After swallowing the contents in his mouth with a huge gulp and a following pound performed on his chest to clear his airway, Stiles chastised the photographer. "Dude! I know the phrase is 'take a picture, it'll last longer' but people usually give their consent first before an actual picture is taken."

The culprit of the unsolicited snapshot was a relatively new face at BHHS like himself. Matt Daehler; a recent transfer student who Stiles had a class with in Economics.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist a shot. It was cute how plump your cheeks were."

The statement stunned Stiles into silence. Cute wasn't an adjective used to describe Stiles by others. He had heard goofy, weird, troublesome, a chore to listen to, annoying, pain in the ass…

The point was: anything opposite of cute or close to a compliment was usually not associated with the teen witch.

"Your name is Stiles, right?" Matt filled in for the lack of dialogue from Stiles.

"The one and only." Stiles, at last, found his voice.

Matt took a seat on the opposite side of Stiles at the lunch table.

"Matt." The shutterbug introduced himself. "But I think I'm one of seven Matts here."

"But the only Matt armed with a camera and a license to humiliate." Stiles stared pointedly at Matt's camera in hand.

"Don't worry, I promise to use my power responsibly. Besides I needed a picture of probably the only high school student to present a wildly imaginative look at dragons used as an aphrodisiac. I have been to many schools over the years and nothing I've heard has come close to that, I almost believed it. You are quite an inventive writer for someone your age. Congratulations on showing me I could still be surprised." Matt smiled charmingly.

"Glad to be of service? I don't even remember how the topic popped in my head but once I did I couldn't stop writing it. I can get a tiny bit obsessive sometimes. Just ask my dad. Or don't… yeah, that would be better." Stiles chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head.

"No judgement from me." Matt raised his arms to show he was no threat. "I can be pretty obsessive myself. It's part of the allure of photography for me. Capturing moments I can hold onto for a lifetime."

"And a hungry dude stuffing his face is one of those lifetime memories?" He replied in a light tone.

"Just the… dude, in particular, is what interests me." Matt winked at Stiles then moved his hand Stiles', gently stroking the side of Stiles' hand with his thumb.

Despite the flirting, Stiles couldn't help noticing the way Matt had said 'dude' it was like someone trying a foreign word for the first time, hoping they said it with the correct inflection. Not something you'd expect from an average sixteen-year-old. But something told Stiles that Matt was not an average sixteen year old. A good thing since Stiles wasn't doing so great in that demographic.

The moment between them was brief before Matt suddenly stood up. "I hate to cut this short but I need to take a few more yearbook pictures before class. I await our next meeting Stiles." Matt bowed slightly before walking out of the cafeteria as Stiles stared after him still in semi-shock over the flirtation and compliments he received from Matt - the very friendly, very handsome neighborhood shutterbug. Not to mention the unexpected bow, again something he didn't expect from your average teenager. His state caused him not to notice Scott appearing in the reflection of his magic. The witch forgot he placed it out in anticipation for Scott's call.

"Dude!" Scott whispered-yelled grabbing his friend's focus.

See that was how you say dude, dude.

"Man, I can't believe what-"

"...you saw." Stiles finished Scott's sentence for him. "I can't believe it either. And it happened to me! Me!" The witch hid himself from the rest of the cafeteria by burying his head underneath the table to talk to his friend through the magic communicator. "I mean, the smiling, the touch, the flattering words! Holy crap, man! Someone finally wants some of Stiles! And he's good looking… like really good looking."

"Stiles, what are you talking about?"

"Matt." Stiles tried to clarify to a confused looking Scott, at least it looked like Scott was confused - the connection was a bit off since the full moon was barely visible at this time of the day.

"Uhm, okay. Who is Matt?"

"The new guy… with the camera… who just left… y'know, before he gave me some real vibes about being interested in all this," he waved his hands around his body. "If that's not what you were hyped about then what is it?"

Scott's face morphed into a sheepish grin. "Dude, I was hoping you could settle a question for me. How much time do you have before you die if you ingest wolfsbane?"

Stiles sighed dejectedly at realizing his best friend wasn't excited at the first real romantic news in his life - well, the first romantic news involving a mutual attraction.

Being the good research monkey that he is, Stiles answered easily off the top of his head. "Uh, depends on the dosage but anything ingested will take about 2 to 4 hours." But Stiles' disappointment switched into worry when he realized his friend's true motive was medical related. Potentially life-threatening. "Wait, are you alright? You're not poisoned, are you?" Stiles panicked.

"No, no. Don't worry, no one is harmed."

"Then what's with the need for medical advice?"

"I wanted to settle a bet. I didn't study much for Bio with yesterday's pack run. And I forgot my notes."

"Scotty, I love you but doncha think you need all the time focusing on Bio that you can get?"

He snorted. "I'll call you tonight and you can fill me in on Mike." Scott's image began to vanish, ending the call.

"It's Matt!" Stiles corrected loudly at Scott's disappearing face. "Not you, Weston!" He clarified to one of the seven Matts at the school who stared questioningly at the outburst.

Chemistry class came later that same day, as did the students flocking in, and Stiles settled in his seat with a huff. His lab partner, Derek Hale, took residence beside Stiles. A curt nod was given to Stiles by Derek, which was the most he usually received from the eternally grumpy looking student. Derek plopped down a sizeable amount of printed paper in front of Stiles, only uttering, "Here." With no explanation following.

Stiles flicked through the pages without glancing at the content and joked, "What is this? A disclosure of any harm that may come to me as a result of partnering with you."

Derek rolled his eyes before he explained. "Those are five different proposals for our final project. Pick one and I'll do the work."

"Dude, shouldn't I have some involvement since this, y'know, a group assignment."

"That's why I asked you to pick one. That's all the help I'll need from you."

"Sorry to disappoint you, big guy. I will be pretty hands on." He clapped a hand on Derek's shoulder and quickly reigned it back after the look he received from his lab partner made him fear the safety of his hand. "Not on you if course but the chemicals and what not." Stiles was starting to wish he really had something legally binding in writing that no harm would come to him from working with Derek. The nervous witch cleared his throat and redirected their conversation to a lighter note. "I'm actually looking forward to unleashing my inner mad scientist with his project."

"You would be the only person to turn down an easy A." Derek scoffed.

Stiles scoffed right back mockingly. "And you would be the only person to try and do a massive project like this on his own. By the way, what makes you so sure you'd get an A? Cockiness on the basketball court doesn't necessarily translate to success in science."

"You might want to check the trophy case to find that answer."

"Kinda hard to do in the middle of class with Mr. Hellhound upfront guarding the door."

At Derek's blank expression, Stiles elaborated. He forgot his supernatural references didn't always translate well in this world. "You know, the demonic dogs that guard the gates of Hell. I swear, Mr. Harris never moves an inch during his lectures, or even blinks and has the same resting bitchface. Maybe he isn't human…" Stiles trailed off.

Derek shook off the odd comment. "Did you have anything in mind for your… mad scientist debut?"

"It needs to be something with a boom, y'know what I mean. Or a pa-pow." He eloquently described. Stiles played with the bottom of his lip, pushing it side to side with his index finger, as he thought about an idea - completely missing how Derek stared at the action.

Derek jerked back in surprise when Stiles' arms spontaneously flailed around wildly.

"I've got it! Liquid nitrogen mixed with, like, a thousand ping pong balls. Tightly seal them in a container and place it warm water…"

Derek continued. "The liquid nitrogen will turn into gas and the pressure will build up and up." Catching on where Stiles was heading. "It'll be a perfect fit for the auditorium. Not bad, Stiles… for a junior."

Mixing potions had many of the same applications as chemistry, so Stiles felt right at home there. "I'm full of surprises." He waggled his brows. That interaction with Matt must've given him a boost in confidence. "Or," he drew the word out. "We could do a project involving potatoes. Potatoes are awesome."

Derek snorted and jotted down Stiles' idea - the non-potato one. Stiles took the opportunity while Derek busied himself with writing to reach deep into lab partner's pants pocket.

"Stiles, wha-!" Derek flushed red as Stiles blatantly disregarded his personal space. Despite the intrusiveness, Derek made no move to stop the intruder - only peering around the class to make sure no one noticed.

"Gotcha!" Stiles exclaimed after finding what he wanted in Derek's jeans. He was surprised he could even fit his hand in those super snug jeans to get his partner's phone. "Now we can exchange numbers for the project."

At the end of the day, Stiles stopped by the trophy display where amongst the grand sports trophies was a space reserved for scientific excellence. " Well, I'll be a wendigo's butcher…"

Derek Hale and Lydia Martin; winners in Annual Northwest Science Fair.

A picture was set in front of the award featuring a beautiful red haired girl standing beside Derek, wearing dark goggles, as they accept the award.

Things were finally beginning to take a positive turn for Stiles with the introduction of Matt and Derek in Stiles' life.

Matt became his new lunch mate as they met at their secluded spot, under a tree instead of in the cafeteria, where they would discuss the history of Beacon Hills and its mythology. Stiles hadn't known so many stories surrounded the town. To Stiles, it was less fiction, more fact. With the many mysteries shrouding the town's history, it was a wonder Stiles' dad didn't at least try to believe his mom when told him she a witch.

With Derek, their partnership morphed into something close to friendship, at a slower pace than with Matt. They usually chatted in class - okay, Stiles did most of the talking but Derek never told Stiles to shut up so it was safe to say Derek didn't mind the witch's company. It turns out Stiles was right because one day the older boy invited Stiles to come over to his home. Derek had stated it was to make sure Stiles didn't make a fool out of the both of them during their presentation but Stiles still took the invite as a winning point for the budding friends column. After all, they could have just met in the lab or library at lunch or after school. And Derek had stopped trying to hide his amusement from Stiles' joking nature and started openly smiling at the witch. They were small ones, and the witch still couldn't get Derek to fully laugh yet, but Stiles welcomed the change of Derek's usual sour face. After a while he'd practically forgotten what that sour face looked like, replaced with small smiles between his intense looks of concentration when they were together.

In an instant upon entering Derek's room he understood why they met there. Beakers, a Bunsen burner, test tubes. Who would've thought the buff jock doubled as a huge science nerd.

"So how're you liking Beacon Hills? You just moved here, right?"

Stiles dropped his pen mid-sentence and stared dumbly at the senior for a brief period. It was the first time Derek had initiated a personal conversation outside of their joint assignment. "It's been good… mostly." Stiles fiddled with a pillow off Derek's bed as he sat on the mattress. "I mean, I came here to be with my dad but he is so busy with work that we hardly see each other for more than a few minutes at a time."

The older boy shared Stiles' dilemma. Derek spoke about how his parents are out of town frequently on business, leaving him and his younger sister in the care of his uncle. Derek's uncle, Peter, was a professor at Beacon County University and taught paranormal studies, of all things. His uncle had most of his hours scheduled around being there when Derek and his sister were home, today being an exception when Peter had to work later than usual.

Upon hearing that Derek's uncle was a professor of paranormal studies, Stiles commented that he would've liked the chance to meet him.

Derek grumpily muttered a disagreement that Stiles wouldn't want to as the older boy moved suddenly to close the bedroom door. Kind of weird since they spent the whole time with it open. Before Stiles could ask what Derek meant by that comment, a teenager younger than Stiles stopped Derek from shutting the door then pushed it wide open causing Derek stumble back. The girl had to be his sister, with Derek's dark features and trademark scowl on her face.

Stiles greeted the girl with a friendly wave and an introduction since Derek was too caught up in a glare showdown with his sister to do it himself.

She looked at him briefly with a blank expression to barely acknowledge his presence before ignoring him to focus back on Derek. "You know you're not supposed to have cute guys in your room alone when Peter's not here, especially with the door closed." She stated with her arms crossed. The way she spoke told Stiles she would use this as blackmail. They were definitely siblings.

Stiles was unperturbed by her standoffish attitude. If Stiles could win over one sour Hale, he could work his magic again. "Aww, you think I'm cute? That's so sweet." He smiled.

"We're only working on our project for school, Cora. So go away and do not try eavesdropping either." Derek ordered before forcefully escorting Cora out the door then slamming it shut behind her.

The witch chuckled softly. "That's kinda adorable. What, you caught her ear pressed to the door one time or something?"

"She has her own methods for listening in to private conversations." Derek said in a measured way that left Stiles itching for more details. But he let it go. It was starting to get late and as much as he enjoyed spending time with Derek the witch wanted to try to catch his dad before he returned home for his break. Stiles had to work hard to get any quality time he could with his father. And maybe he also wanted to make sure his dad was sticking to their new implemented diet. He trusts his dad but no one is perfect.

"Glaring at that test tube won't get your desired results any faster." Stiles joked. He was invited back to Derek's place another day, the senior's uncle and parents gone again.

Derek grunted in reply which Stiles has learned by now meant 'all my energy is being used to focus on my work and so shut up'. Stiles might be paraphrasing a little.

Since Derek wasn't in the mood for talking, instead of asking for Stiles' notes, he grabbed Stiles' bookbag and went searching for them himself.

Before Stiles could stop the senior from digging through his bag, Derek's hands pulled out a thick book on mythology and froze in shock when he read the title. Matt had given it to Stiles that day during their daily lunch date as a gift.

Moments pass but Derek doesn't lose his 'what kind of freak did I bring home' look. He threw the book on his bed away from him like it was scalding hot to the touch.

The older boy took a second to compose himself and talked with measured carefulness. "You… you like that stuff?"

Stiles gave himself a split second to figure out how to play this. He doesn't want to push Derek away by being weird and he doesn't want to lie. Option three: he could spin the truth. A particular skill he's acquired living in a house full of lie detecting werewolves. "It's, uh, pretty cool, right."

Derek nodded like he understood. But he didn't look cool with it.

Stiles kept trying. "You know like Buffy, Xena, Game of Thrones, Grimm, Supernatural… mortal TV shows like that. I like it, it's fun. It's harmless fun."

"Did you just say mortal TV shows?"

Stiles cursed inwardly at himself. He should have given himself more than a freakin' split second before babbling.

Stiles scoffed. "Is your hearing okay, Derek? God, you're obviously working yourself too hard. Tsk, tsk." He shook his head, wagging a finger. This was not working. Time to abort! "Anyway, I should get home, let you get some rest. And Dad said he would try to make it home early tonight so I should be there, y'know." Stiles frantically gathered his stuff.

Not a lie.

"Stiles…" Derek's voice gave pause to Stiles turning the knob to leave. "Text me when you get home?"

Stiles grinned in relief. He hadn't totally ruined things with Derek!

With Matt and Derek to fill in his social gaps, Stiles forgot about the reason most of his peers didn't want anything to do with him. Jackson Whittemore.

Jackson reminded Stiles that he was still on his shit list as the witch waited for Matt under their favorite eating spot.

Instead of the bright smile Matt always greeted him with, Jackson marched over to their secluded tree with a deep scowl. Stiles gulped. Nothing good could come from that look, so Stiles decided it was in best interest to hightail it to where there were witnesses.

But Jackson didn't let any other listening ears and watchful eyes deter him when he caught up to Stiles in the middle of the cafeteria.

Jackson pushed Stiles into a table. The people eating there cleared out as soon as they saw Jackson. "I heard what you said about me, Stilinski!" He accused with a shove in Stiles' chest.

The witch wished he could be flattered that Jackson bothered to learn his name instead calling him 'aqua spaz' anytime he had the misfortune of passing the lacrosse star.

"C'mon now, Jackson. You're much too pretty to be scowling like that." He knew from past experience his jokes never landed well with Jackson, but without his magic all he had was sarcasm and humor as a defense mechanism - neither being super effective.

"You think you're a comedian?" Jackson pushed Stiles again. This time the witch's hand slipped off the table while trying to brace himself and he fell to the floor. A round of cheers and goading from other students followed his descent. "Make a joke about that, Stilinski."

Stiles was fed up. With the gathering of an audience, Stiles felt his cheeks heat up from embarrassment. And his rising anger from being made a fool fueled his next action. "Fine. You want a joke? Here's the punchline!"

Stiles sprung from the floor with a punch heading for Jackson, hoping to surprise the lacrosse star. His plan failed. By a long shot. Jackson dodged with ease and with Stiles so consumed by his emotions, he lost control and fired his spark by accident. The small blast of light caused a random to fling their lunch tray resulting in a widespread food fight.

The only good thing to come out of the food fight was that Jackson was so distracted by the cafeteria turning into a battleground that he loses track of Stiles amidst the chaos.

By the time Stiles is released from the principal's office, he's rushing through the halls to avoid being late for his chemistry class. There was no need to get himself into more trouble.

He narrowly arrived to class on time, heaving his breath hard as he flopped down in his chair.

"I heard about the food fight. So what did you do to Jackson?" Although Derek was talking to Stiles, his gaze was set on the blackboard their teacher began writing on.

Stiles was outraged but made sure to keep his voice low to avoid getting into any more trouble for the day. "Me? You're blaming me?"

Derek shrugged. "Jackson is a jerk, don't get me wrong. But he only reacts when provoked."

Stiles thought it over and remembered the start of the fight. "Well… Jackson did say I had said something about him behind his back. But I only talk trash about him in my head."

"Sounds like you've got a doppelganger out there."

Stiles seriously doubted that. Those were only forged from a pit of lava and blood magic. And he knew there were no active volcanoes anywhere nearby.

Stiles' face must have given away that he took Derek's joke to heart because the senior spoke again. "Stiles, I was kidding. Maybe you need to take a break from the fantasy stuff. Someone's probably spreading a rumor about you."

Oh right.

"Come over after school." Derek doesn't even ask.

"I can't. I've got detention thanks to Jackson. Man, I wish he'd just… go away. Far away."

Derek sighed heavily. As if he were the one stuck after school hours. "Don't worry about him, Jackson can be dealt with easily. Just meet me when you're done with detention. I can wait for you in the parking lot until you're done."

To say Stiles was caught off guard by the gesture was an understatement. "Really? Dude, that's so sweet."

Derek's face must have missed the memo that Stiles was giving him a compliment because the senior looked like the idea of being sweet was an insult. "It's not sweet. I just don't want to wait longer while you bike your way to my place."

"Whatever. It's still pretty sweet. Anyway, what about your uncle? Won't he be there by the time we get to your place?" Derek had seemed to think it would be a disaster if Stiles ever met his uncle.

"It's okay. Since you like… that stuff," Derek lowered his voice, even more, when covertly mentioning Stiles' interest in the supernatural, which was unnecessary. The rest of the class was too preoccupied with not falling asleep to the teacher's endless droning as he recited dispassionately from the textbook. "I figured you'd like to meet an expert in… that stuff. Besides, he'll be busy grading papers to be too much of a nuisance."

Stiles had forgotten Derek's uncle was a professor of paranormal studies. No wonder the book didn't bother Derek too much. It would be interesting to see how much truth was in what Derek's uncle taught.

Stiles didn't realize his detention came with an addition of cleaning the lunch disaster by himself as punishment moderated by his chem teacher, Mr. Harris. There were several clumps and stains Stiles hoped was actual food since Mr. Harris was thoughtful enough to not provide him with gloves. There wasn't enough hand sanitizer and soap to make his hands ever feel clean again.

He wondered if Jackson was having a similar punishment if he was being punished at all. He also wondered if Derek was still waiting for him. If the witch could, he would have texted Derek to leave without him but his teacher had taken his phone away. It had to be getting late and with the window shutters sealed for the day, Stiles couldn't tell if the sun was even still out.

But Stiles didn't realize how late it had gotten until he cleaned off the ketchup/mustard/mayonnaise covered clock showing… 6 o'clock!

Mr. Harris said he'd come back when it was time to leave which should have been over an hour ago.

Stiles groaned. Derek was going to kill him. And his dad was going to him. And there was also Jackson who wanted to kill him. Stiles should make preparations for his funeral.

He wandered around looking for his neglectful teacher or any sign of life so he can get his phone back and apologize to Derek then notify his dad why he would be late getting home.

A pained scream sent a shaky chill down Stiles' spine. He raced down the dark hallway to find the source, checking the windowed doors as he passed them in case the sound came from within a room.

Stiles' sprint came to a halt when he rounded the hallway and saw a dark figure crouched over a victim.

The victim was Jackson, unmoving on the ground. Stiles would recognize those high-end sneakers anywhere after coming face to face with them earlier.

In a panic, Stiles pitched forth a spark of magic from his hands like a baseball before the dark figure could do the same to him. The figure is blinded by burning bright light and violently thrashed into the locker behind him, a loud metallic bang filled the hall. The witch moved forward in haste to help the downed victim, even if it was Jackson. Once Stiles moved closer, the dark figure turned their face toward him revealing himself to be Derek. The sight of Derek's face filled the witch with fright. The fact that his lab partner's open mouth, groaning in pain, had fangs and nails shifted to claws isn't what frightened Stiles. The witch was literally raised by freaking wolves - werewolves were cool in his book. The vibrant, inhuman blue eyes that glowed in the still darkness is what truly frightened Stiles. He knew what the color meant. Derek has either killed before or this was his first time killing someone, killing an innocent person. Derek freaking Hale killed some innocent person! He killed them to death! Jackson might be dead right now because of Derek!

Derek was panting heavily with his eyes screwed shut as he struggled to move. "Stiles… Stiles, let me explain…"

Too bad the murderous werewolf's mouth wasn't as out of commission as the rest of his body. The witch wasn't planning on sticking around to hear whatever lie Derek planned to tell. No doubt a ploy to keep Stiles there long enough to recuperate and kill him for discovering his dark secret. Stiles took off as fast and as far as his legs could take him. If Derek caught up with him, Stiles doubted he could conjure another spark of magic that strong. He could feel his energy wasn't at its peak anymore.

Leaving Jackson was wrong but what could Stiles do for a highly likely dead body if he ends up dead himself.

Stiles biked his way to the nearest location, a gas station, and begged the store clerk, alarmed by Stiles' panicked energy, to use his phone to call his dad.

What happened to Jackson was just like what Stiles had heard of the mysterious deaths around Beacon Hills lately from his not so authorized perusal of his father's case files and eavesdropping on phone calls during winter break. There had been no blood or physical injury found on Jackson to indicate what actually happened. But unlike the other victims, Jackson survived. He was in a coma but still alive.

It had to be Derek behind the other murders.

Although the events of the night had left Stiles quite shaken, knowing Derek was in police custody made the witch feel some sense ease.

Of course when he Stiles saw Derek walking past his dad's office window, not in handcuffs and fully recovered from his temporary blindness, that sense of ease vanished in a flash.

The witch jumped out of his seat and rushed to his father escorting Derek out of the station.

"Dad! What the hell?!"

"Stiles! Go back in my office!" His dad ordered, doing his best to keep his voice down around the other deputies in the station.

Before Stiles could further voice his outrage, a man sidled up to Derek dressed in a suit fitted to perfection and spoke. "Ah, I presume this to be the boy my nephew has talked about. Pleasure to meet you in person, Stiles." The man greeted.

Nephew? That must mean the man was Peter, Derek's uncle, coming to bail out his murdering nephew. Derek himself had remained tightly lipped the entire time, sporting a scowl Stiles hadn't seen the other boy wear in quite some time.

Sheriff Stilinski crossed his arms, standing in front of his son. "You can leave now. The exit's right down there."

"Right, it is getting well past Derek's bedtime and I'm sure Stiles' too. Be sure to check under the bed for monsters, Stiles. You wouldn't want something big and bad to get you in the middle of the night." Peter joked. But Stiles knew Derek's uncle wasn't making a joke, confirmed by the flash of electric blue in Peter's eyes before leaving with Derek.

"Is the whole Hale family a bunch of murderers?" Stiles feared.

Stiles tried to remain calm the next day at school after learning what Derek truly is but as their shared class drew closer he found himself unraveling at the seams. It also didn't help that Stiles hadn't slept a wink last night. His dad explained that there was no evidence that Derek did anything to Jackson. And that his uncle was Derek's alibi for the nights of the other murders. Derek claimed to have been trying to help Jackson. Stiles wasn't buying it, and neither was his dad.

("If that was true, then why didn't Derek call for help?" Noah reasoned last night.)

There were many questions weighing on Stiles' mind. Like what was Derek doing to those victims. And without his mother's spellbook or a connection to the Other Realm, Stiles had no one with knowledge about the supernatural to find out.

Matt tried his best to distract Stiles but the witch only heard every other sentence coming out of his lunch mate's mouth.

Stiles finally lost all and any cool he had in his class before AP Chem. His inner monologue became his true worst enemy.

"I only accused Derek of murder, I'm sure we can put it behind us and focus on our project. All I need to do is act like it's not a big deal that he possibly comes from a family full of murderers. Simple plan. I can do that."

"Mr. Stilinski." His teacher called out.

Stiles flinched and out of terror he shouted out, "Killer werewolves!"

A round of laughter and low whispers from the class followed.

"No, Mr. Stilinski, I highly doubt there were werewolves in the civil war." The class continued sniggering at the teacher's remark. "First, Greenburg answered with America fighting against Iron Man in the civil war and now this… How much longer until spring break?" The teacher bemoaned lowly.

"Is there anyone that can explain…" Once again his teacher's voice was drowned out by his thoughts.

With his new discovery of werewolves here in the mortal realm, Stiles suspected there may have actually been werewolves in the civil war.

"Did they come here on the Mayflower? Were they natives to America?"

Oh Makers, now he was wondering the role werewolves might've played in history. At least his wandering thoughts were in somewhat the right subject regarding his history class.

Fortunately, all the worrying was for nothing because Mr. Harris was absent - possibly still being questioned by Stiles' dad. Their substitute for the day allowed them to independent study for the period. ("In silence," the substitute emphasized with a hard edge.)

Stiles sat in a far off corner away from Derek and kept his eyes firmly in his books. But he felt the older boy's gaze on his back.

At the end of the school day, the witch thought he was home free. Derek, however, ended the witch's streak of luck and halted Stiles from leaving school. "We need to talk right now." He grabbed Stiles' arm and pushed him through the crowd into an empty room. Stiles wanted to yell out but felt the werewolf's claws digging shallowly into his arm.

Derek, after slamming the door shut behind them, pressed Stiles' face into a wall. "I know what you are, Stiles!"

"What're you talking about?!"

"You used magic on me and in the lunchroom! In public like an idiot! If I saw you, someone else can! And if they find out what you are, they can find out about me. About all of our kind.

"You mean hunters?"

"It's not just hunters that are after us." Derek warned.

"No one will find out, I swear!" He cried out.

Derek finally released his palm from Stiles' back to allow him to turn around but Derek remained within inches of the witch's scared face. "That's right…" The werewolf's voice lowered and he poked his sharpened finger to Stiles' chest, "because if you ever use magic in public again - I will kill you myself before the hunters or anyone does."

Stiles was terrified and his heartbeat went into overdrive, he knew the werewolf could hear and sense his fear but the witch wouldn't let Derek get away murder. "Like you tried to kill Jackson? Did he find out about your secret?"

"I told your dad before I didn't do anything!" He claimed through gritted teeth.

Stiles licked his lips. "Yeah, because I stopped whatever dark stuff you dabble in!"

"Stiles, you idiot…" Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. "You have it all wrong…"

"Is everything okay here?" A voice called out.

Both boys whipped their head to the now open door where a deputy stood with a hardened gaze.

Derek jumped away from Stiles. "No, sir. We were just discussing our project."

The deputy huffed. "Stiles, your father asked me to pick you up. Seems he was worried about your safety. Should he be?" The deputy's eyes fell accusingly on Derek.

Instead of answering, Stiles just rushed over to the deputy and they leave Derek in the room.

"Are you alright, Stiles? Should I call your father?" The deputy asked with genuine concern once they're walking down the hall to the parking lot.

"No, everything's fine. Um, it's Parrish?" His father had told Stiles he would have a deputy stay with him until he could come home. Though, the sheriff couldn't be sure when he would be able to leave home. Despite being his son being threatened, the Sheriff still left him in someone else's hands. Stiles couldn't help feeling a little abandoned.

Deputy Parrish nodded. "Jordan Parrish, your personal protection reporting for duty." He smiled widely, opening the car door for Stiles.

"Woah."

Now that Derek was behind them, Stiles took a more assessing look at the deputy. He was not expecting his bodyguard to be… that. Stiles sat inside the car and tried to ignore the man's charming good looks because he could waste some serious time listing Parrish's attributes from his kind green eyes to the way his biceps tested the limits of his uniform's short sleeves. But what stood out most about Parrish was how young he is - much younger than Stiles any of his dad's deputies. Like 'fresh out of high school' young.

But after seeing the way Parrish handled Derek, plus his pleasant demeanor, Stiles understood why his father chose the deputy as the witch's watchdog despite how young he looked. Still, Stiles couldn't help wishing to spend this time with his father - both Stilinski men looking out for each other.

He asked Jordan to drop him off at one stop before heading home after being accosted by Derek.

Melissa had told Stiles to go to the Other Realm embassy if he ever found himself in serious trouble. Stiles thinks she would agree that a family of werewolf murderers (Or would it be a family of murdering werewolves?) would fit the requirement for assistance. When Stiles pulls up to the address of the embassy he found himself confounded by the location.

The only thing in front of Stiles was an animal clinic. A wholly unimpressive looking animal clinic. Stiles took a moment to think. It would make sense that the other realm embassy would be cleverly disguised but still, Stiles expected something… else. Not a place where animals are… fixed for population control, according to the Price is Right.

Before Stiles entered the clinic, he lied to Jordan about following up on a stray he had found in his backyard when the deputy asked why Stiles decided to be taken there.

"Hello, young man. Picking up or dropping off?" The welcoming man behind the counter greeted.

"Um, neither…" Stiles looked around for any eavesdroppers then leaned in despite no one else being there. "Frog legs, robin's egg, leaves of three, stinger from a bee. Mix together all of these…"

"And you my friend will be acne free." The man finished with a knowing smile. "There isn't one Other Realmer who hasn't used that concoction at some point."

"I have a feeling I'll be needed to soon." Stiles rubbed his knuckle on a sore spot of his cheek that he was sure would breakout soon. Most likely caused by his newfound stress - the reason he was there.

"So what are you doing here, traveler?"

"I need help. Obviously." Stiles stated bluntly. "There are werewolves trying to kill me and my dad. They've killed others in town. To death."

The man's face took on a contemplative expression. "Yes, I have been made aware of these recent attacks. Very peculiar ones."

"Like not of this world peculiar, right?"

The man hummed in agreement. "I agree they are not of this world but these attacks were not the cause of werewolves. It seems more magic related."

Okay, Stiles had to agree. The bodies weren't physically damaged - no bruises, bites, or lacerations. But… "But doesn't mean werewolves couldn't be behind it." There are instances where a supernatural creature can have two differing sets of power. Like how Stiles is half witch, half human. The Hales could be half witch, half werewolf.

"True. Who are these werewolves?"

"Derek Hale. Probably his uncle, Peter Hale, too. Hell, it's a safe bet the whole family is involved." Stiles informed.

"You think the Hale family is behind this?" The smile on the man's face told Stiles he wasn't taking the witch seriously anymore.

"I know they are." Stiles firmly stated, crossing his arms. "I caught Derek in the act and stopped him before he could claim another victim."

The man quirked a brow. "Tell me exactly what you think you saw."

Stiles was really heating up from the man's tone of voice and his unwavering smile that made him feel like a neurotic fool making up stories. "I saw him over an unconscious body who moments before was screaming bloody terror. Derek had literally said something about dealing with people like Jackson - the guy I found - and boom, the same guy is now unconscious in the hospital. Then Derek and his super creep uncle threaten me with their blue eyes. The I've-murdered-before kind of blue eyes that werewolves have when they, y'know, murdered before. Believe me now?" Stiles quirked his own eyebrow, knowing he made his case.

"I'm sorry, young man."

Stiles' hands dropped to his sides and shoulders sagged down, relaxing from relief as he heard the man coming around to his side. "Thank you!"

"I'm sorry you have greatly misread the situation."

The witch's jaw dropped. His eyes bugged out. "What!?"

"The Hale family are the most upstanding advocates in the supernatural community. You have nothing to fear from them." The man explained in a calm manner. "The Hales have lived here a long time, generations in fact, and nothing like this has ever happened."

Stiles threw his arms up. "They could've just been good at hiding it!" Stiles didn't understand why this man was hell-bent on praising the Hale name until it dawned on the witch… "What're you under duress or a mind control spell? Blink once for yes and twice for no."

The man leveled a patient stare at Stiles.

"You're not blinking. Does that mean you can't even answer that?"

"It means you are suspecting the wrong people." The man answered.

Stiles practically growled in frustration. "This is ridiculous! What's your name? I want to speak with your manager about your lousy service!"

"The name is Doctor Alan Deaton. And I am the owner of this establishment. Sorry for the lousy service."

Stiles stormed out of the waiting room. He wasn't going to find an ally there.

Jordan stayed with Stiles the entire time since picking up the witch from school.

Stiles felt like a prisoner in his own home. And he hated that feeling. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to help his dad. He wanted to not feel like a looming attack was imminent. Stiles didn't want to say he didn't have faith in his dad because he did have faith in him, but the man - the very mortal man - had no idea what he was up against with regarding anything supernatural. The man wouldn't even let his own son practice magic at home.

How could Stiles protect his father when he was under a microscope like this?

He needed some leeway to confront and deal with Derek his own way. On his own.

His school would alert his dad immediately if he tried ditching. His dad's trusted deputy, Parrish, wouldn't leave until relieved from duty by the sheriff. And to top it off, his dad knew how to use mountain ash to keep anything supernatural out of their home and consequently sealing Stiles inside.

"This doesn't look like enough to surround an entire house." Noah stared unconvinced at the small pouch of mountain ash. He had come home briefly to set the invisible barrier.

"All you need is a hand full. Just envision an endless supply and believe it." Stiles instructed.

"Just believe in dirt?" His voice dripping with skepticism.

"Ash." Stiles corrected . "I know it sounds like hokey pokey nonsense but you are talking to a witch, remember."

The Sheriff grumbled something incoherent but did as instructed. He started thinking, hoping, believing that this would protect his son. That it would keep the kid he's only had in his life for a short time safe from any threats and they would have more time to get to know each other.

What Stiles needed was a temporary helping hand. A willing one. Manipulating Parrish with magic wouldn't work, even if he could. Not only was it forbidden to control another person's mind, but in order to dispel the mountain ash's power a person needed to be of free will to do so.

That left one person he could possibly depend on…

It wasn't hard to convince Matt to dispel the ash line around the witch's home. Matt already had a keen interest in the supernatural. But asking him for a ride out to the woods at night, however, was a little more problematic. Not because there could possibly be werewolves roaming in the forest wanting to tear them apart - no, he brought some mountain ash with him just in case. Stiles' problem was what to do when Matt undoubtedly began asking questions.

Like now. "Not that mind spending more time with you but why exactly did it have to in the middle of the forest? In pitch black night?" Matt was more calm about their current location than an average person should be.

"You can wait in the car y'know." Stiles hinted, hoping to get rid of Matt.

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you wander through the forest at night by yourself?"

Of course Matt had to be a sweet, thoughtful guy. Damn him.

Stiles used the location spell that found his mother's book. Using it to find wolfsbane with a map of the town. But with Matt nearby Stiles couldn't use the flashy spell again to show him where it was specifically without his secret being exposed. It was somewhere in the general area…

"So, enlighten me on why I had to rescue the fair prince from the high tower." Matt joked.

Stiles did his best to trek past the branches and over the protruding roots on the dirt floor while thinking of a plausible answered. "It was two stories high. And I, uh, need monkshood for my chemistry project." His brain supplied as an excuse.

But it wasn't good enough. "Got werewolf problems?"

Stiles halted to stop and stared at Matt with wide eyes, his breath caught in his throat. He could see Matt's easy going expression with the glow of his flashlight.

"And I know that line of 'dust' you told me to separate was mountain ash. You're a witch, aren't you." There was no question in Matt's voice. "I've had my suspensions before that though… Your little exchange with Jackson in the cafeteria… The camera catches everything." Matt grinned in amusement.

The exposed witch smacked the front of his face and groaned pathetically. "I guess I should do a better job of not using my powers."

"I was going to say you should do a better job of hiding them. Why squander your gifts by putting them on the shelf? Embrace them without exposing yourself."

"Well, that answers any questions I may have about you being a hunter…" Stiles chuckled softly.

"Far from it. I despise their kind." Matt's playfully expression turned as dark as the night surrounding them. "Let me show you something I found a while back in these woods."

"Oh my God! This is freaking gorgeous, Matt!" His over excited response wouldn't be heard by anyone this deep in the cavern set against the backdrop of a small waterfall. "How'd you even know about this?"

"It's been a well-preserved secret in my family for generations."

Stiles couldn't stop staring at the scene there was even flora growing beside a pool of water giving the underground area a touch of vibrantly colored beauty.

Matt whooshed past Stiles and ran into the shallow water that rose up to his navel, concealing his sudden lack of clothes. "Follow me. This isn't even the best part."

Beyond the curtain of falling water was a spacious alcove, the walls glowed a whitish blue courtesy of the luminous plant life.

Stiles sat on the smooth rock floor beside Matt, his clothes left behind before traveling under the waterfall. "Geez, Matt. This is… it's beyond amazing."

"And there are so many more things outside of Beacon Hills waiting to be seen… by us." Matt entwined his fingers into Stiles' hand. "Come with me and we will see it all."

The witch looked down at their joined hands and tightened their hold. "That sounds great, Matt. Actually, that sounds like the best time ever. But what about my dad? And your family?"

"You'll have me. We'll have each other." Matt stared intensely into Stiles' eyes. "I basically take of myself anyway."

Stiles had to admit he was tired of being left behind and forgotten by the people he loved. He was tired of keeping his magic under wraps. Matt was here offering constant, devoted companionship. And with the way the other boy continued to gaze at Stiles it was becoming more enticing by the second.

He felt so alone in this strange, new world. Despite his best efforts, the witch couldn't help but feel at times that he made a mistake staying here in the mortal realm. But there was a constant reminder of his mom's hibernate status weighing on him back home in the other realm. The guilt for his mom and the absence of his dad made Stiles feel lost in both realms. Maybe going away with Matt is just what the witch needs to breathe a bit easier.

"Maybe. But I can't think about leaving my dad until I know he's safe."

"Well then," Matt plucked one of the flowers growing from the wall and tucked behind Stiles' ear. The witch snorted but beamed nonetheless. "I hope this can help you make your decision faster. It is a special form of wolfsbane. It'll paralyze the mightiest alpha easily."

That was why Matt brought Stiles there. A defense for dealing with Stiles' furry dilemma. Stiles thanked Matt and twirled the stem between his finger and thumb.

He noticed the necklace adorned on Matt. The interesting design hanging from the necklace compelled Stiles to move his hand to touch it. But Matt fisted the medallion before even a fingertip from the witch could graze it.

"Sorry, it's very special to me. And extremely valuable."

"And you brought it with you out here? Looks like it belongs in a museum."

Matt just chuckled and swirled the water with his foot.

The water was so clean and crisp looking. It reminded him of the last time he saw his mother…

Stiles sighed. "We should get back." And before Stiles is killed by any blue eyed werewolves or his blue-eyed father.

"There's one more thing I have for you."

Stiles wanted to protest, it was getting late and he wanted to get home before his dad or Parrish realized he was gone. But seeing that Matt had given him a means to protect himself against Derek, Stiles figured he could see what the other boy had to show him.

Stiles becomes more curious when he recognizes that they are heading to school. He asked Matt but the other boy just smiled, saying he doesn't want to spoil the surprise.

Matt led Stiles to the pool and they stand at the edge of the water. Stiles turned to Matt who looked entranced by the still water, ready to question their purpose for being there.

Matt saved him the trouble.

I remember every night for a year I'd wake up in the middle of the night gasping for breath. Matt continued to stare down at the pool. Every night that year I would dream that I was drowning."

"Matt." Stiles began rubbing circles between the other boy's shoulder blades, hoping to soothe him.

"It started the night I… died. I was at a party just outside of town. There were these bullies… they were picking on this girl about your - I mean - our age. It was a random night, like tonight. They called her a freak and all sorts of names, some I didn't understand. After they pushed her to the ground I stepped in and pushed one of them back, told them all to leave her alone. They did.

And focused on me.

One threw a mean punch to my face." Matt cradled his left cheek, the memory fresh in his mind. "I knew I didn't stand a chance against them and I ran. Ran as far as I could but they caught me. Dragged me to a lake not too far." He let out a ragged breath and squinted his eyes, his gaze never leaving the water. "Then they held me down… and they… they dunked my head in the water.

I try yelling out but I only manage to lose air faster. They never let me up for air no matter how much I struggle. I start swallowing water and all I hear is laughing. I'm dying and they're all laughing."

Stiles watched Matt's fist squeeze and unclench repeatedly as the other boy struggled to continue.

Matt found his voice again after a moment. "Then I wasn't struggling anymore and I didn't hear them laughing. I had… I was…"

"You died?" Stiles finished.

He nodded. "Everything was dark and quiet from what I remember. But then there was a light. It was warm, and it felt wrong and right at the same time. Suddenly, I could breathe again. I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky and the stars were gone and the sun was shining bright. I look around and I'm laying in the middle of a clearing with two women beside me. It was the girl who was being attacked and her mother. They saved me, Stiles. They saved me." Matt finally took his gaze from the water and looked into Stiles' eyes with tears falling from his.

The witch hugged Matt, trying to squeeze out the pain the other boy was feeling from sharing his traumatic story. "I'm so sorry, Matt." Stiles whispered.

"Stiles." An unseen intruder spoke with hesitation in their voice.

The boy in question spun around. It was… "Derek? Wha-?

"I didn't mean to interrupt." Derek said apologetically. No doubt having heard some of Matt's story, the creeper werewolf probably listened in on the whole thing.

Stiles dug into his pocket and kept his hand on the wolfsbane, making sure he's prepared if Derek tried to attack. "What are you doing here?"

Derek looked confused. "I'm not early, am I? You texted me to meet you here. To talk."

It was Stiles' turn to look confused. How could he have texted Derek when he had never gotten his phone back that night?

"Derek, don't worry you are right on time. You get to hear the end of my story." Matt moved behind Derek in an instant, taking the werewolf by surprise. He grabbed Derek in a choke hold and kicked the taller teen in the back of his legs to bring him to his knees. Then Matt pushed Derek's face to the tiled floor and kneeled onto the werewolf's back, trapping him on the ground.

Derek tried to fight against him but couldn't do much other than squirming in his position.

Stiles had never seen a werewolf taken down so fast before, especially by a human.

"What're you?" Derek snarled out.

Stiles stood with his mouth open watching the scene unfold. The tone of the evening shifted so dramatically and suddenly, he wasn't completely sure it was real.

"Stiles, give me the wolfsbane!" Matt ordered causing the witch to flinch.

Derek grunted, continuing and failing to wiggle out from under Matt. "Wolfsbane? Was this your plan, Stiles? You lure me here and do what?!"

"I didn't lure you here!" Stiles defended himself, staying rooted to his spot away from Matt and Derek. "I don't even have my phone anymore! But I do have wolfsbane!" The witch pulled it out for show. He only wanted to scare off Derek if he came for him or his dad, there wasn't a plan to go after the werewolf preemptively - at least not without a plan. But here Derek is… "And if you don't leave me and my dad alone, I won't hesitate to wrap it around a stick and shove it up your -!"

Derek interrupted. "I told you before I didn't do anything!

"Bullshit! Then why are your eyes blue? I know it means you've taken an innocent life!" Stiles accused.

"Stiles, who cares! Give me the wolfsbane and we can end this now!" Matt repeated.

The witch couldn't move though. And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"It's - It's because of guilt." Derek wheezed out and squeezed his eyes closed, seeming to be in pain. But Stiles could tell it wasn't physical pain. "My sister… I didn't kill her but it's my fault she's dead. Because I still blame myself, my eyes turned blue."

Stiles had heard in rare cases a werewolf could be changed by intense emotions. Like a werewolf becoming an omega even when surrounded by family if they felt unwanted and unloved by them. But it didn't mean the witch automatically believed Derek. "And what about your uncle?"

"He went after the creature he thought was responsible. But… it wasn't the right sister he killed."

"Sister?"

"The Gorgon sisters."

The wolfsbane in Stiles' hand fell soundlessly to the ground. The same creature that had cursed Stiles' mother years ago from him also took Derek's sister.

"Let him go, Matt." The words spilled quietly out the stunned witch's mouth.

"No, Stiles. Don't believe him!" Matt was beginning to lose his hold on Derek, having to go on all fours to keep the werewolf's limbs contained.

"I do. I do believe him." Stiles wrapped himself in a hug, painful memories of his mother resurfacing. "Please let him go."

"Sorry. I'm doing this for us, Stiles." Matt slammed Derek's head on the ground so hard that it left a small crater in the ground, blood slowly pooling in the small concave.

Stiles gasped in horror.

Matt reached out and grabbed the abandoned wolfsbane then sprinkled it directly on Derek's face, who struggled to even twitch. After seeing the paralyzing effects work on the werewolf, Matt moved in front of Stiles. The witch flinched when the other boy placed his hands on the sides of Stiles. "I know how scary that was but it's over now, Stiles."

Stiles stiffened in Matt's embrace, his voice sounding distant. "Matt, that wolfsbane was only meant to scare him, to defend ourselves as a last resort."

"It was only a matter of time before he attacked you, or your dad. Now he's and you're safe. And we can be together." Matt pulled back and smiled at Stiles' blank face.

"W-what's the plan once the wolfsbane wears off? He can't stay that way forever."

"I have a plan." Matt pulled out his necklace and placed it on Derek's forehead after turning him around. At least Stiles felt a bit of relief seeing that Derek's head wound had healed but it wouldn't matter for long because as soon as the medallion was placed on Derek ethereal tendrils flowed out from the paralyzed werewolf into Matt. Matt was sapping the energy, the life force, from Derek like a wall socket.

As Matt's eyes darkened to black, soulless orbs from his newly acquired power, he swiveled his head to Stiles and curled his lips. "See, I told you I have a plan."

Derek's back arched upward, more energy was being drained from his body at a quickening pace.

"Matt… it was you all along… Jackson… the murders." Stiles pieced together, the evidence right before him. The witch had assumed in Matt's story when the other boy was revived from the dead, the method was along the lines of CPR. But it had been something else. Something darker. "What really happened when you died, Matt?"

Matt looked happy to answer. "That girl who was called a freak… there was another word they called her too. Witch. She and her mother were witches. They brought me back to life as gratitude. And they also gave me revenge on the men who killed me.

"You stole their life force." Stiles injected. "It's how you came back. A life for a life."

Matt turned furious. "I only stole what was taken from me! Their pathetic lives for mine!" He spat out. "But it wasn't enough… Feeling that transference of energy, it was… addictive. I felt powerful, more alive than I ever felt before. But it didn't last for long and then I felt… normal. I could feel my body, my cells aging and breaking down like I never could before. I went back to the witches and took the amulet they used to bring me back. And I never aged again as long as took a few lives here and there."

"Don't you see, Stiles - I meant what I said about never leaving you. With the power of this werewolf, I can share this power with you and we can be together forever. And travel every part of this world and yours together. There's so much I can show." Matt's normally charming smile took a more manic, terrifying form.

"Stiles…" Derek managed to croak out. "Run… save yourself."

The witch couldn't take anymore - he had to save Derek before there was nothing left to save. "Goddammit! What gives you the right to pick and choose who is worthy to live?" Stiles shouted, anger now radiating from him. The witch felt his power peaking and pushed both hands out to release as powerful a blast as his spark could muster up.

To the witch's shock, all Matt did was shake off Stiles' spark like a wet dog. Matt had absorbed too much energy, not just from Derek but from others in the past weeks. "Don't do this. I've searched for nearly a century for someone like you, Stiles. Don't disappoint me like all the others!" Matt cried out.

"Matt, please - I don't want this, I don't want to take people's lives! I don't want to outlive everyone I know! I don't want to watch the people I love grow old and die while I stay the same." Stiles fought back his tears.

"You won't need them, you'll have me!" Matt grinned so hard that a long vein bulged in the center of his temple and his eyes bugged out.

Stiles stomped his feet and raked his hair in frustration, seeing no way to get through to Matt rationally. "Y'know what - when're you gonna realize it's been a century and no one has ever accepted your twisted ass offer. Wanna know why? Because everyone would rather DIE than spend one more minute, let alone an eternity, with a pathetic, selfish, psychopathic asshole like you!" The witch's brutal words echoed around them in the pool room.

The connection to Derek was severed as Matt rose up. Stiles didn't know if the werewolf was completely drained or the transfer was suspended for now. Derek's eyes were closed and his body limp.

Matt's own eyes, back to their normal color, were wet with unshed tears. His voice quivered full of emotions. "I just didn't want to be alone anymore. Stiles… we could've been... We could have done so much together. And I'd always be with you. Isn't that want you wanted? Not to be ignored or forgotten? No one will ever be able to give you what I can." Matt's tone pleaded for Stiles to reconsider.

Stiles saw his chance. He made a dive for the necklace left behind on Derek's forehead. Matt was caught off guard, lost in a haze of his emotions, and missed catching the witch flying past him. He had only one answer for Matt's offer and it came in a rhyme.

"For years he has stolen the life force from others; time to return the energy torn asunder."

A glow emitted from Matt, as luminous as the small cavern they visited earlier that night. In a flash, Matt vanished and in his place ash fell into a pile on the ground where he had stood. The glowing energy floated above the dust pile as a large ball, a kaleidoscope of patterns and colors. The ball's form split and shot out into so many directions Stiles couldn't keep track. All except one, that went toward Derek's body.

He made his way over to Derek to check on the unconscious werewolf. Stiles checked on Derek, wiping the blood from Derek's forehead. Hopefully, the spell returned Derek's life essence.

Derek blinked rapidly. He sat up with ease as if awakening from a nap. "Stiles? What happened to Matt?" Derek shifted around to find the person responsible for his 'nap'. He knitted his brows together, unable to find him.

"He's gone. I'll explain it to you in the car… y'know if you don't mind driving me home?" Stiles requested sheepishly.

The werewolf nodded and stood up. He walked toward the exit but stopped to lift his foot after feeling a shift in the terrain. "What the -?"

Stiles walked past, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, yeah - that would be Matt."

"Stiles." Derek called out but the witch had no intention of stopping his trek. If Stiles has any luck he might be able to get home before his father ever found out he was gone. "Stiles! What do you mean that's Matt?!" Derek jogged to catch up him.


End file.
